


Saving You

by staringatstars



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: Reyes has a talk with McCree after one too many fights. It turns out the kid has some things he needs to get off his chest.





	Saving You

There’s an SEP calendar hanging on the wall in Commander Gabriel Reyes’ office. Of course, the SEP was a secret government project that would have never allowed such a thing, so it wasn’t so much official merchandise as a testament to the ingenuity of a group of bored twenty-something’s with photo-editing software at their disposal. It was well-used to the point of virtual uselessness, each of the white squares practically black with overlapping cross marks and notes written on the bottoms, tops, and sides, but Reyes never even considered replacing it, because in a lot of ways, it was the only solid proof left in the world that his (and Jack’s) fallen friends had even existed. 

He’d often wondered what they would think of him now, if they could see the organization he and Morrison had built through their sheer tenacity and stubborn will to survive, but that thought was beginning to be overshadowed by what they would make of Blackwatch’s newest and youngest recruit: an honest-to-god cowboy. 

Reyes was sitting at his desk, his fingers steepled as he prayed for patience, when Jones poked his tangled mess of strawberry curls into the room to inform him that McCree had gone against all expectations, and actually done as he was told. 

After smothering a groan with an incoherent grunt, Reyes barked, “Send him in.” 

And in came Jesse McCree, seventeen and not quite grown into his limbs, like an ungainly pup stumbling about with oversized paws, except the hard-edged grin on his face was a little too wary, a little too calculated to match the image. He tipped his hat to Jones with a shallow bow as he strode in like he owned the place, and Jones scoffed before shutting the door. 

Underneath McCree’s right eye was a splotchy purple-black bruise, swollen to the point that the eye was nearly swelled shut. Without preamble, Reyes commented dryly, “That’s a real shiner you have there, Jesse.” 

Fingers tentatively reaching up to poke and prod the sensitive skin, McCree asked, “This?” As if it could be anything else. He shrugged his shoulders with a short chuckle. “It ain’t nothin’ _jefe_.” And there was that charming wink that Reyes didn’t buy for a second. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I did, actually.” Reyes pulled out a file from under his desk and then dropped it unceremoniously in front of him so the kid could see the snapshots of a pale and bloodied face clipped to the front. Struggling to keep his voice level, because he knew Jesse would only be encouraged if he made it seem like he found any of this shitshow amusing, the Commander added with his best attempt at solemnity, “The nurse said his nose might never be the same.”

His lips twitched, but it seemed he got lucky because Jesse was too busy staring at the pictures, something like regret passing over his youthful features before that flippant mask of his came back up, “Here I was tryin’ to beat him up and I wound up doing him a favor.”

According to the reports Gabriel had been receiving about his ward, McCree was stand-offish with the rest of the recruits. He was quick to shoot his mouth off and damn near gleeful whenever an altercation came his way. Reyes knew that it was the gang life in him, that burning need to prove himself, but alienating himself from his teammates wasn’t going to fly in Blackwatch. 

“The men have been telling me that you won’t speak to anyone that tries to get close to you-“

McCree bristled, “Now, that’s just a dirty-“

“- in a language they can understand,” Reyes finished before the kid could get another word in. 

Jesse’s shoulders drooped, the tension bleeding out of him along with his brief spark of righteous fury, and there was that hint of guilt again. And however quick Jesse tried to wall his expression back up again, to reignite the anger and the fire that kept him going when the world stomped on his back and whispered, _stay down_ \- Reyes knew what he’d seen. “Then maybe they should learn.” McCree’s body screams aggression, as though he’s expecting to be attacked, and it’s all Gabriel can do not to stare, because that’s a man standing in front of him, ready to fight if he has to, ready to push, and it’s a child. A child with a sidearm. “Why should I have to change the way I talk when they don’t even wanna listen ta what I have to say?”

His arms gesture wildly, lashing out, yet his tawny brown eyes are dry. It’s a wonder the kid didn’t drown in all the tears he didn’t shed.

“Maybe they would if you gave them the time of day,” Reyes told him firmly, watching as the fight once again drained out of the boy. “You’re shaping up to be one of the best agents we have, Jesse, but I’d take a mediocre agent over a hotshot solo act any day.” 

McCree flinched, a full-body contortion like he was expecting a hit, and Reyes nearly took it back, but restrained himself. Even if it stung, it was the truth, and that was what the kid really needed to hear right now. 

Or so he thought, because when the kid’s upper lip curled to bare his teeth in a snarl that bordered on feral, an inkling of doubt began to grow. “You picked me,” beneath the growl, something desperate and hurt lurked on the edge of discernibility, “because ‘a my looks.” He swiped roughly at his fringe to emphasize the point. “Just cuz I got the blood of my rotten old man runnin’ strong in me don’t mean I’m any better than the rest of Deadlock.” Grinning a tad maniacally, he added, “But I look pretty dang close to ol’ whitebread Morrison, don’t I? Enough to convince ya to save my sorry-“

Reyes cut him off, “Do I look like I care, McCree?”

Startled, Jesse took a good, hard look at the dark-skinned latino in front of him, taking in the beanie, the squished, flattened nose, and coarse beard. In the end, though, only one of them was sitting behind a fancy desk with a covert ops division at his fingertips. Averting his gaze from the Commander, McCree quietly scoffed, “Guys in power are all the same. Doesn’t matter their color.”

Standing up, Reyes snorted. “That might just be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me, and I know you’re not stupid.”

Hands twitching at his sides, Jesse’s eyes flicked nervously to him. Then he approached the desk, placed both of his calloused palms on its surface, and said, “Look, you ain’t ever answered me before, and I haven’t pushed, but I need ya to answer me now… “ Reyes nodded when he hesitated, silently granting him permission to continue. “Why me? Why give me a second chance and not the rest?”

 _Because you’re just a kid._

_Because this world is cruel and you never had a chance._

Reyes slumped back into his armchair, partly to buy himself some time to think, and partly because this conversation had honestly sapped him. He briefly closed his eyes. “I saved you, Jesse McCree, not because of sentimentality, nor because you’re a kid, but because justice isn’t going to dispense itself.” And in a moment of genius, the Commander shot a slow wink at the shocked teen that was downright conspiratorial. “And who better to dole out a little karma than guys like us?”

For now, it seemed to do the trick, because McCree straightened,“Thanks, _jefe_ ,” fired off an impeccable salute… then turned to the open page of the SEP calendar, where Morrison laid sprawled out on the beach in a little more than a speedo, and said, “Thanks, Mr. July.”

Then he darted from the room, his boisterous laughter echoing in the halls as Reyes hollered after him, “Yeah, laugh it up, Chuckles, you’re still running extra laps tomorrow for busting up Foster’s face.”

“Worth it!”

Once McCree was well and truly gone, leaving frustration and chaos in his wake, as per usual, Reyes sank back behind his desk, shook his head, and then proceeded to sacrifice an estimated forty years of his life to a weary sigh.

Honestly, what was he going to do with that boy?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not certain of McCree canonical ancestry, so I generally hc him as half-European descent on his father's side and half-Mexican Indian on his mother's. 
> 
> If you see anything that you feel is inaccurate, feel free to let me know. I honestly appreciate the feedback because these characters all have distinct cultures and backstories and I want to not only get them right, but to treat them with as much respect as I can.


End file.
